How is it that I am?

Putting my people on your revealments as we speak.

The above assumes that you can actually get a Internet Connection to begin with. If you can not get a Browser Home Page to load it's all useless.

But as you didn't say any differently I'm assuming that you at the very least could get the Web Home Page.

If you can't I would suggest using Boot & Nuke to wipe the HDD to get rid of every trace of Windows 7 and reload XP which just works out of the box.

Col

It is clearly tagged, "Security".

If I can't secure it, what can I secure?

"God".

The bellows to my Mechanical Turk just failed.

I do not query a machine.

I query you.

" No luck with Google."
You type keyword.
Google queries googlebase (database for google, I invented another something!)
Google provide your with query results.

Into Wolfram Alpha, and guess where it referred me to?

Google.

Your query was to a machine primarily.
Then secondarily to us.


What were you expecting to return from Google?

Programmed with algorithms devised by whom?

.

I like mine rare. I avoid freezing my minions, I think it makes them tough. Too, minions should not be allowed to sauce.


etu

You have seen it?

You don't get no thumb for mere information leading to the arrest and conviction of same.

Produce it.

Is HERE

Is one of Google algorithms.

The Manual is, Algorithm of the Almighty.

None less will do.

my level of spiritual comprehension, that is.
Sounds too much like psychology to me.

Which is me, since I am, that the algorithm is digital -- you can do it on your fingers.

No psycho-drivel necessary, specially the kind derived in university studies of nineteen-year-olds.

That particular manual is exactly where Oh Smeg told you. What he didn't tell you is the sub-basement is the one between your ears.

By 21.

You are altogether too wise.

That is exactly what I do. Only, it ain't Google.

http://geekswithblogs.net/images/geekswithblogs_net/alternativedotnet/WindowsLiveWriter/Dilberts404page_133FA/image_5.png

Close enough.

Is the transitive form of the question. "How" is the intransitive.

The transitive has more answers than you can shake a stick at. The intransitive -- none.

"Fine, thanks. And you?"

With "fine" you bring an "outside" standard.

I have realized in my thinking that: how I am holds for all that is, meaning there's no going outside for an answer -- not for me; not for you; not for anyone.

Reflexives, automatives, passives.
That you are - you are, and being you, you being, is how you are being.

I think you are the only one, in all my time here, who has picked up on it, my having mentioned the intransitive more than once.

I will think on it, as I did before my last to you, before crafting and responding.

While you're welcome to think that way Santee maybe there is another alternative that no one else has mentioned this previously. Like

You don't need any engorgement to continue your wicked ways.

Col

Of having learned finnish.
Now, finnish doesn't use different markings for automatives, reflectives and passives, but the learner at some point will have to face the differences in meaning, if they get that far.

Automative covers the meaning of the formally active verb "come" in the example "water kept coming through the hole in the hull". There's no placement of blame, for one, no intent on the part of the water.

Reflexive covers both "run"-type meanings ("See jack run") and "itself"-types ("the deadly ouroborous serpent buries itself in the loose sand"). There is intent on the part of the one taking action.

Passives of the finnish type don't usually exist in english as independent verbs - instead, they're the intransitive subset of an otherwise transitive verb's usages.
Like "broke", in "he was about to tell me whom he suspected, when the connection broke".
This is different from the normal english passive "the connection was broken" which (in this case) implies a background intentional activity (someone broke it).
An unnamed perpetrator is not always the case, as in "He was killed in an car-accident" which differs from "He was killed in a knife-fight" which differs from "He was killed by his wife"... the difference is in terms of accusation.

etu+boss

Doesn't hack it. Take you and your statement, for example. Not even the Indian dieties could figure your ass out.

An Indian diety is to a westindian as a diet coke is to waste coke gas. And only a deity can sort that mess out.

How it is that F(u)=B(i)M?
Begin from what it is that your I is not. It gives you a bigger field, less subjective uncertainty. Try to see how it is that your I is not; the patterns of it's unbeing.
The pattern of it's being is the negative image of it's unbeing. How you unaren't is how you are.

Or did you mean how as in "how did I come to be?" That's a whole other barrel of fish.

How I am not is unavailable. There is no "field". There are no "patterns".

If I insist to think at my outset with only two possibilities -- being and/or not -- I do so with tools of being. Tools of nonbeing, i.e., your "patterns", are unavailable to me.

Being is it.

Which goes to your question, "how did I come to be?" Hark to how I put Totality: there being no outside, I can't "come" to it.

These considerations are, you might say, initial conditions to my thinking. Unless my thinking is substandard, the conditions of totality also constrain your thinking. More pointedly, they constrain speech.

Not in your case, though. And not in the case of so many others here who broach the matter with certainty that is not, theists and atheists alike.

No thumb for you.

I am

Totally Confused after reading that drivel above Santee.

And no I'm not going back to reread it to understand it My Head Hurts.

Col

I go unrecognized in my own time.

When you are confronted head-on, which, I confess to doing, confronted with, "drivel".

Don't like drivel, myself.

Get that, Col, and you and I, we get along just fine.

Jocularity, however, I like. You are a past master with jocularity. Most of the time.

diverts the senses that intuitive mind may process uninhibited.

To knock Colin's mind off course, to meander aimlessly in orbit, along with other debris.

that Col is old enough he gets to do what he wants.

To land in fighting stance, after having said to self, "Oh, shilt: how do I manage this one?!

His forte.

That's right.

(looks about)

There is more to Hal than meets the eye.

What you see is all a Illusion or if you prefer technical terms a Holographic Projection.

Oh and that hissing that you hear is the airlock behind what you consider to be a solid wall opening.

Col

niggles... These things keep me awake at night. *yawns*

I understand now, how you are forever.
And, yes, I see nothing breakable in your total cosmology.
Or do I understand?
Everything is forever, always was, always will be. Is that the path?

My question was, which do you ask:
how it is - that you are?
or
how it is, that you are?

The first is difficult. The second has many answers, one of which is "mysterious", another "ineffable".

is if "dieties" was some sort of pun on the size of my ass. Not that I have such, being English.

For once I made it first on that one

How about a diety coke?

I was reading the post in order, replied straight away and then read your post.

too.
Makes for many instances of me sounding like a copycat, at least to myself. Aggravating.

that I WOULD have thought of it before anybody else. Keeps my ego firmly intact.

Only now do I see it. I thought Ansu had gone psychoactive, again.

I'll leave it. You both would look psychoactive if I changed it.

Rescription is fultile.

"had gone" and "look"?
To affect the psyche, is that not the point?

Psychedelic on the other hand, that's to be avoided when possible.
Surreal is better.

It's my first time seeing, How is it that I am, in print.

Poor guy spent most of his time in the local insane asylum where he wrote quite a lot of his poetry. Not sure about this particular poem, though.

John Clare

on the afterlife

Is there another world for this frail dust
To warm with life and be itself again?
Something about me daily speaks there must,
And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?
'Tis nature's prophesy that such will be,
And everything seems struggling to explain
The close sealed volume of its mystery.
Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace
As seeming anxious of eternity,
To meet that calm and find a resting place.
E'en the small violet feels a future power
And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,
And surely man is no inferior flower
To die unworthy of a second spring?

"Outside", and futile. Makes for some of the best damned reading in poetry and literature, though.

It took some digging.
Actually it is really "I am", but i added your "How is it that i am" on to it. It gives it a better tone to the poem i thought.
Hoped you liked it.

Was transitive.

I'm a 'who', too.

And Horton hears you, too.

Which is why you aren't going to get a 1500 word off-topic response from the wrong side of the "bi-cameral mind".

From the back and forth here -- including your last rabbinate -- that I, like anyone, can only have gotten the "be" and "am" and "is" by means of temporary scaffolding.

That scaffolding: "not", as in nonexistence.

If you are anything like me, you are incapable of arguing for or demonstrating nonexistence. Doing so would mean you can point to an edge of nothing, or compare one part of nothing to another part, saying, "See -- see the difference?"

I can't.

So, tongue in cheek, I appose non-being to being, which yields being, then abandon the apposition, which scaffolding never "was" in the first place.

Leaves, is.

How many do you suppose go about, still, tongue planted firmly in cheek? How many will not to contemplate the terribly inconceivable alternative?

A lot, I think. Note the transitive, like your own.

And no imaginary numbers. (I say imaginary in the non-mathematical sense. And as we know, mathematical imaginary numbers are quite real.)
Absolute value of non-existence is existence. I think it is appropriate to live there.

Noted and appreciated. "Blush". I got to remember that.

They were there, escorting the cash truck, but you weren't home, so they left.

That's the kind of response a figment of my imagination would make.

*Dons rubber Viking helmet. Makes pickle yodel.*

Never, ever use the Secret Code in public.

Not even close. Sorry.

Like my glasses when I'm looking for them, might be right where it is.

Greatest question ever: you got that right.

We're here, that's enough,(sometimes too much), but, cleaning up my language considerably-keeping it simple-why?

How do you know that you know, before you ask who, what, where, when, and why.

One way or another. Can't fool me.

I ask my personal imaginary, omnipotent being the serious questions. My god mostly just sits around, drinking beer,(good beer) fishing, so I don't get much for answers.

No need to ask anyone. I trust my gut instincts.

AV

Now, keep moving them until arises the fatal contradiction. Further, don't put up with any shilt from yourself.

my horror-scope for the day